‘The Shape of Water’ Is The Best Film About F***ing Fish Monsters Ever

The Shape of Water is about having sex with a fish monster. That’s what it’s about. Sure, The Shape of Water might be an Academy Award-winning film about good, evil, loneliness, courage, and romance, but it is mostly about a woman having hot, passionate sex with a fish monster. (And while I understand the name of Doug Jones‘s character is technically “Amphibian Man,” he’s a fish monster to me.)

I suppose I should explain that I heard a lot about The Shape of Water before I saw The Shape of Water. Film critic friends told me it was supposed to be Guillermo del Toro‘s finest work as a director to date, a love letter to the glory of old fashioned cinema, and a tender romance between outcasts. I had also heard people joke that it was about a woman having sex with a fish monster, but I thought these were all jokes. Like, maybe they hook up, but it’s just lightly alluded to — a sweet communion of two souls. But no, Sally Hawkins and the fish monster fuck. I don’t know if they fuck hard — the water that surrounds them during their trysts provides a weird sort of buffer for bumping — but they certainly fuck a bunch, and they’re happy about it.

Photo: Everett Collection

You can call it romance if you like, but The Shape of Water is indeed about sex. We know this because when we first meet Eliza (Sally Hawkins), she’s in the midst of her morning routine. Amid boiling eggs and getting ready for the day, we see her get undressed for a bath, where she takes time to pleasure herself. It’s a very human moment, and in many ways, masturbation is as mundane a task as brushing one’s hair or punching in for a day’s work. But still, it establishes Eliza as a sexual being. Her life may be rather solitary, but she still has desire.

There are a number of fantastic embellishments in The Shape of Water that allude to Eliza as a princess. The film is definitely a sort of modern take on fairy tales, with sharply drawn heroes and villains. Usually princesses are pure beings who need to be rescued, but del Toro subverts this. His princess is the hero saving her prince, and she’s not an immaculate noblewoman, but a flesh-and-blood woman.

Photo: Everett Collection

Sex becomes a dreamy physical manifestation of Eliza’s connection with the fish monster man. In a move that echoes the earlier masturbation scene, Eliza decides to disrobe, once more in full view of the camera, to join “Amphibian Man” in the tub. They embrace and consummate their love affair in the same place we’ve seen her alone before. After their first time together, Eliza is able to float through life in a giddy dream-like way, seeing wondering in a raindrop and giggling with her best friend about what sex with her lover is like. It marks a shift for Eliza because she’s found a sort of fulfillment she never had before.

Elsewhere, del Toro uses sex to reveal a character’s nefarious inner life. We know from the get-go that Michael Shannon’s Richard Strickland is a grotesque bully. But it might be an intimate scene with his wife that makes us realize that his obsession with control might go too far. When the married couple have an afternoon hook up, Strickland crudely quiets his wife in a way that is not loving, but menacing. (It also hints at a more perverse interest in the mute Eliza.)

The Shape of Water might have a weird Russian spy subplot, a sci-fi twist, and a tense battle between good and evil, but it’s also very much about sex. It’s about the way our sexuality reveals ourselves and how sex allows us to connect with others in meaningful ways. But mostly, it’s about a woman fucking a fish monster.